1. Copyright © 2014 by NykaTheAuthor
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methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief
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Flavors of Deceit -Excerpt
By NykatheAuthor
By nature people want to believe that there is good in everyone. Bullshit! Despite the numerous
headlines saying “Husband kills two infant children, his wife and then himself” or “Teens mother
shoots her two daughters over a teen lover” there are still people who will say “maybe he was
stressed or maybe she was dealing with something at work that’s why she/he hurt the person they
loved. People have a way of justifying the actions of others sometimes no matter how unjustifiable.
You are no different. Or are you? Remember the time when you believed something to be true
without so much as a shred of proof? As children we were told by our parents and society to believe
in the existence of the Easter bunny, the Tooth fairy and Santa Clause only to find out as teens that
their existence was all a lie. We often learn the hard way, by experience through bumps and bruises.
Those are the lessons that stay with us the longest. Those are the lessons that turn to intuition.
When we received the gifts under the tree, the basket full of goodies and the money under our
pillow we dare not challenge the voice inside us that told us that these figures could not possibly
exist in reality. Skepticism is the birth of intuition and its voice is one we learn to listen to or not
at all. Do you remember the feeling of the dollar bills sliding from under your pillow, or the taste
of the chocolate filled eggs, and what about the shiny new bike or video game that you had been
waiting for all year? Did that joy leave just as fast as it had come with the unwrapping of the
Christmas wrapping paper when you realized that there wouldn’t be another present, that all of
your teeth could fall out but here wouldn’t be another dollar under your pillow and eggs were never
meant to be neon blue with glitter – it was all a well-crafted ruse perpetrated by the ones you
loved? Or did you capitalize on the knowledge? Witness- that is where flavors of deceit was born.

2. Copyright © 2014 by NykaTheAuthor
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in
any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical
methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief
quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by
copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions
Coordinator,” at the address provided nykatheauthor@gmail.com
The point between betrayal and belief. This is the tale of the greatest deception crafted by the ones
that we unwitting give ourselves over to in love and in trust.
Note from the Author
Appreciation in words is not gratitude enough for those who have helped to fuel this dream. Marva,
Sheba, Herman... Thank you
Flavors of Deceit
Chapter 1
The black ink ran down the side of the pen onto the paper, and down the girls hand as she scribbled
her name in circles on the Publix grocery bag. N.Y. K. A. She had been scribbling and staring out
the dusty window for quite some time. The sun was beginning to set beyond the window pane. Her
legs ached and her ass was going numb from being on the wooden floor boards for so long. She
should have been studying books on mental illness to help diagnose the symptoms of zombie like
behavior she displayed. Most girls go “catatonic” after an extreme trauma, but at least she was able
to move. Given her family history it was understandable that she was afraid of these topics. Nyka
would meditate for hours, sometimes days putting herself into what appeared to be a hypnotic
trance. Sometimes it seemed as though she was walking through her day dreams. The most
frightening part about these semi-trances was that she could be doing something like driving or
having a conversation and at a moment’s notice her eyes would glaze over, those thoughts taking

3. Copyright © 2014 by NykaTheAuthor
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in
any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical
methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief
quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by
copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions
Coordinator,” at the address provided nykatheauthor@gmail.com
precedence. She was in the middle of a set and almost fell off of the stage because of it. Some
people thought that she might have been epileptic, while others just thought that she’s was crazy.
Nyka had a hard time coping and an even harder time relating to others. She had sat on many a
couch at the direction of her friends but the continuous self-inflicted mental manipulation was one
of the reasons that it was so hard for her to socialize. She made the oddest connections when it
came to friends and lovers. She seemed to always attract the worse people. Her flightiness was
also why her lovers didn’t stay around for long. After the initial luster of a new love Nyka would
lose interest and you could hardly keep her attention. Her therapist said that “One would need to
have a true love for butterflies and admire their beauty from a distance, watching them fluttering
colorfully by.” She also said that maintaining a conversation with Nyka was like a gauntlet for the
mentally astute. If the topic of conversation didn’t involve some tangible idea or even an abstract
reality talking to her was like talking to a ghost. In many sessions Nyka would literally turn down
the volume in her head and seem not to hear. A few select friends knew her best had come to deal
with this social awkwardness because when she was coherent she was wild and a lot of fun. She
threw the raunchiest parties and always picked up the tab. The endless perks were enough for
anyone to deal with her catatonic stares and immobile expressions. If you could get close enough
you were in for a treat. Nyka trusted no one.
She stumbled to the bathroom, wiped away the tarter and sneeze spatter which had apparently been
on the mirror for a while, so that she could get a better look at the scar just above her eye. Moments
before she had found herself in another lucid vision. This time the mental picture show had blurred
the lines between reality and fantasy causing her to walk directly into the plate glass window in
her den. It was one of those nights so there where at least thirty she barely knew partying and
drinking in her apartment. The sound of the shattered glass was loud enough to get everyone’s

4. Copyright © 2014 by NykaTheAuthor
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in
any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical
methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief
quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by
copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions
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attention over the music “There she goes again, that is one crazy B*tch!” someone shouted. “Get
the hell out”, she screamed as she reached for her bloody head. All of you get the hell out. The
crowd disbursed and in under ten minutes Nyka was the only one left in her wrecked apartment.
She grabbed her temple to find that the blood hadn’t only been dripping from her eye but the side
of her head as well. Running back to the bathroom to check out the damage, she fell to the floor.
She reached out in front of her to touch what should have been a wall but it looked and felt like
razors cutting at her hand. She was having a waking dream. Her thoughts flashed violently back
and forth from the present moment to her past. Nyka was on a sort of psychedelic trip without the
acid.
Grabbing her hand the little girl realized that the twenty rubber bands she had tired there were
cutting off her circulation giving her a razor blade like sensation. Life. “Living. In. Fear. Of.
Everything.” That is what my life has become a young Nyka thought aloud. Completing high
school should be a piece of cake. I have nothing much to do besides attend school, get acceptable
grades and not get pregnant. At least that’s the order that my mom and step-dad put my priorities
in. I’m not allowed to watch music videos or go to any of the senior events. What is the point of
walking in graduation, if I can’t take part in Grad night? As soon as I graduate I’m going to make
my way out of this mess and go as far away from my parents as I can. I mean, with all this studying
and strict rules I don’t have time for friends. According to my parent’s fun is wasting time and
talent and that is not allowed in our house. I can’t wait for life after high school. Imagine becoming
both mentally and emotionally prepared to face the real world by wrapping yourself in bubble
wrap and avoiding everything. Good luck at being prepared! Thanks mom and dad, the little girl
yelled aloud. How can I compete with this slanted sense of reality? The only thing I know is what
my parents tell me. I have yet to experience a thing for myself. Shhhh, said the girl in the seat
ahead of her. She’s trying to talk. Was I talking out loud Nyka asked herself?

5. Copyright © 2014 by NykaTheAuthor
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any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical
methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief
quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by
copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions
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The class valedictorian was attempting to set the stage with her speech. She started by saying that
although we had made it to the end of our education, we hadn’t learned what we needed to. “My
thoughts exactly,” said Nyka. It was clearer in that moment than it had ever been. “We are
unprepared for the outside world!” Our parents meant well by trying to shelter us from everything
but as a result they have left us crippled. We have book smarts but that’s it. “Her delivery could
have been better, Nyka mumbled, talking about the speaker. “I agree with her message
nevertheless”, we are not prepared! The girl continued her speech, unaware of the unsolicited
commentary. She offered the answer to the dilemma of ill preparation. “Our of lack of readiness
for life can be remedied by one thing,” she said the kids waited in anticipation for her golden
nugget to fall. It would signal the end of her speech which would also mark the beginning of the
parties they had been planning since the conclusion of final exams. Going to college, she said and
then stared aimlessly into the crowd waiting for a cheer or applause. It was evident by the
audience’s unenthusiastic response which showed that they did not agree with this line of
reasoning. Truth be told, she could have been saying anything; they were just ready to graduate.
“That was a great speech but some parts needed work, “said Nyka especially that college is the
answer to all of our problems.” Nyka was talking to no one in particular. The girl seated next to
her gave her a strange look. Nyka realized that she was thinking aloud again, and immediately
shrank in her seat. She was looking very forward to attending college in the near fall since that
was what she was expected to do. If she had a choice she’d join the military, but as with all things
she didn’t. “I just don’t think that one can navigate life without real life experiences. For many
college will do great things for their life I’m just not sure if that is true for me.
The class of nineteen ninety nine was about to face a harsh reality as soon as their tassels changed
sides. The local city economy wasn’t ready for more inexperienced people looking for their place

6. Copyright © 2014 by NykaTheAuthor
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in
any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical
methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief
quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by
copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions
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in the world. The mistakes that they would make would cost some of them their lives. All that the
streets could offer the graduates was a career in drugs, an arrest record, unwanted time with the
undertaker or poverty on a visually uncensored scale. This reality was due to those who were
naive before them. These kids were going to be introduced to people who were professional authors
of despair - Miami was a lot to take in, so you could image how it would consume these youth.
“Step across the threshold to adulthood and be devoured.” That would have been a more
appropriate title for the speech that the valedictorian had given, thought Nyka. “I don’t believe that
her speech or any other speech will prepare us to face the next few years – at least not me. No one
said that getting passing grades, making the honor roll or having perfect attendance would be
enough to shield us from the fact that we aren’t well equipped to face adulthood. No amount of
counseling or hugs could prepare us for the predatory world waiting. I can’t go out in the world
this way.
Their fate was just beyond the horizon. Most of the kids had never been less than ten feet away
from their parents. Some didn’t know the first thing about critical thinking or reacting in a crisis
situation. If we were offered a shortcut for money would we make the right decision and if our
first lover hit us would we run or stay? None of these lessons lined the outdated text books that
we read from and none followed the Sunday school lessons we slept through. Most of us leaned
heavily on our parents for guidance and protection. Some of us didn’t have parents and the
thought of having to muster those strengths up on our own was enough the make anyone
nauseous, Nyka thought. One of my fellow classmates puked at the thought of this reality.
Maybe it was the Vodka that we all had chugged on the bus ride over. Nevertheless, Miami was
a jungle and we needed to get ready fast.

7. Copyright © 2014 by NykaTheAuthor
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in
any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical
methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief
quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by
copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions
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Although the gas prices had yet to hurdle over one dollar and the technology bubble was still the
size of a pin tip, there was still an air of desperation in Miami. A teenage girl venturing out into
the streets without much life experience or a permit to carry a concealed weapon was like
sending a lamb to slaughter. The streets were waiting and ready for its marked prey. The
optimism that awarded Nyka extra points in creative writing and honors English with Ms. Rice
would slowly develop into a brand
of naivety that would cause her to make bad decisions and fail at the college of hard knocks.
Nyka took comfort in knowing that she was not the only one. With optimism in their hearts and
fools wisdom in their little heads, the class of ninety nine moved into the next phase of their
lives. Passing tassels from one side to the other and passing the baton to the generation’s behind
them. They stepped off the stage and into the waiting world. Welcome to the college of hard
knocks.